Taking Sides
by Jay1892
Summary: Engaged couple Alfred and Arthur have decided to spend their weekend in Southern Virginia and think it will be a fun relaxing vacation until Alfred's alter ego and civil war rival, Jackson J. Jones, decideds to take over for awhile. Angst!
1. The Other Side of Me

It was 1865- the last time Jackson J. Jones had been able to freely wander around the country in the body of his other half. As soon as the orders for the laying down of arms had been signed sealed and delivered Jackson gave one last look to the sky and muttered a curse as he felt his mind fading and his conscious state being forced into the place he referred to as 'The Black Box.'

"Ya'll better mark my words Alfred F. Jones," He muttered bitterly in his southern twanged voice. "I am _never_ gonna fade away. As long as there are folks in the south that still support my ways I will remain. You may have the control, but I'll always be at the back of your mind just waitin' for a chance to rise up again." He breathed out a long heavy sigh along with a cloud of smoke from the last roll of Tabaco he'd have for years to come. "You will _never_ be rid of me."

Even if Alfred had regained control of his body, even if the southern rebels had died down, even if he was given every single last drop of reassurance in the world Jackson's final words haunted him and they would never be forgotten.

The current year is 2010. It has been one hundred and forty-five years since the surrender and fall of the Confederate States of America. An entire century had passed and Alfred did hear from Jackson every now again when the former Union boy himself crossed the old border of North and South. His southern accent would bubble up over his north eastern one and he'd grapple with his other half in the blackness of his deepest subconscious, but still there had never been a time when Jackson had gained full on control like he had during the civil war. Even if it hadn't happened yet the fear of it always lingered in the back of Alfred's mind like an ever present shadow standing stark against the bright day time sun.

Alfred stood in front of the mirror that sat tacked up against the wall of the bathroom in his New York apartment. He stared at himself for a good long time, but more particularly into his eyes. He stared and he stared so intensely into his blue eyes as if he was attempting to get past the gaze of himself into the steely glare of his southern counterpart who still sat tucked away in the 'Black Box.' He needed to look at Jackson- tell him- to leave him alone for this weekend. It was a very important weekend and there was no way Alfred was going to have his split personality ruin it.

"Now you listen here, Jackson, I'm heading down to Virginia this weekend to go to Chincoteague. I'm spending this weekend with a very important person- and I know you know who- and you aren't gonna spoil it. Do you understand?" Alfred looked at himself again- staring into his eyes- because he knew that Jackson could see what he saw and hear what he heard just as well as Alfred could. Jackson could answer and Alfred knew he could, it was just a matter of getting him to talk. "You better not pull something Jackson or I swear to god I'll come in there and beat you to death." Alfred threatened which earned him a small answer this time.

"Feh, whatever Alfred, see if I care. You go spend y'er time with y'er little faggot friend. I won't do nothin'." Jackson southern twanged voice echoed in the back of Alfred's mind.

"Somehow I'm having a hard time believing you." Alfred scoffed. "Seriously Jackson, him and I haven't spent a nice weekend together in a long time and I want to have fun."

"Alright, alright! Jesus Christ quit y'er damn chidin'. I'll try and behave… just… good god please don't _do it_. I hate havin' to watch that queero shit." The Confederate American replied.

"No can do. Like I said I want this weekend to be _fun_."

"…Y'er a son-of-a-bitch, did ya know that?"

"Yup, and you're an asshole so we're even." Alfred snapped back.

"Fair enough union boy." Jackson's voice faded away into silence and Alfred knew that the former Confederate nation had now retreated back to the 'Black Box' in hopes of tuning Alfred and his world out.

Alfred sighed heavily and closed his eyes as he once again put up the mental wall that separated himself and Jackson with maximum security intact. It would most likely be difficult to control him this weekend, but after nearly one-hundred and fifty years of learning how to suppress the split personality Alfred had deemed himself a close master to the art of it all. "I'm in control. The north won. I'm in control. Jackson will not get to me. I _am_ in control." Alfred chanted religiously to himself- a habit he had picked up seeing as how pep talks always seemed to work wonders on his rarely troubled mind.

"Alfred?" The sound of his name being called resounded from the other side of the bathroom door along with a few quick knocks. "Who are you talking to? Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah I'm fine. Be out in a second." Alfred called back before he flushed the toilet and turned on the sink to cover up his tracks and minimize the suspicion of his other half's existence. Alfred quickly swiped his hands over on the hand towel before he opened the door to reveal that important person standing in front of him with a slightly worried expression dancing of his delicate yet sharp features.

Arthur looked up at Alfred and eyed him warily, "Are you sure you're alright? I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone." The British man inquired once again.

Alfred turned on his beaming, bright grin and smiled down at Arthur, "Look who's talking Mr. Fairies-and-Unicorns," The American teased lovingly- only earning himself a scowl and pouty puffed out cheeks from the other man. "But I'm alright; just getting all excited for our totally-awesome-super-special-and-romantic-beach-vacation getaway."

Arthur's cheeks became dusted in a light blush. "Git, don't name it and if you're going to at least don't give it a name that isn't so bloody embarrassing."_Or charmingly adorable_, Arthur added to himself.

Alfred grinned happily and took the smaller man into his arms; affectionately burying his face into the Briton's soft and unruly locks of golden blonde hair. "But that's what it's gonna be Artie. This weekend is gonna be nice, relaxing, and fun." Alfred explained as he rubbed gentle circles into Arthur's thin and slender back.

Arthur sighed in defeat as he surrendered to Alfred's forceful innocence and the Briton loosely wrapped his arms around the American's waist. "Loveable twit," He teased affectionately. "It's been so long since we've spent some decent time just the two of us- what with work being so plentiful these past few months."

"I know- it really has sucked. But don't worry this will be an awesome stress melting weekend; I promise." _As long as old Jackson keeps his whiny southern mouth shut…_ Alfred added to himself. He took in a deep breath, "…I'm in control…" He breathed hardly above a whisper on the exhale just to reassure himself that there was no way the confederate American was going to break through his other half's strong hold during these next few days.

"What was that, love?" Arthur asked curiously as he pulled away from Alfred slightly so their gazes of green and blue clashed with each other.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. Just thinking out loud." Alfred assured his lover with another one of his award winning grins. The older man pressed his thin pink lips together as he remained unconvinced at Alfred's odd behavior, but any protests he may have had died on his tongue as Alfred reached around and took the Briton's left hand gingerly within his own.

Alfred brought the Briton's delicate pale hand up to his face where the American's bright blue eyes gazed tenderly at the ring on Arthur's finger. It was a simple silver band that shone in the dull morning light of the living room with three small ½ carat diamonds discreetly nestled within the gleaming metal frame. The young nation smiled softly at the sight ring that he knew was so lovingly taken care of- primped and polished every morning to the utmost perfection. As Alfred smiled he brought the hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on the cool metal of the ring. "I'm waiting for the day when we'll finally be together forever." Alfred grinned up at his fiancé.

Arthur's tickled pink cheeks grew a deeper shade of crimson, but a small smile graced his pale lips. "Git… we still have a long way off. We have to _plan_ the wedding first."

"Plans shmans," Alfred laughed. "So long as you wear this ring it'll always mean that we're destined to be together." Alfred said as he once again scooped the smaller man up into his embrace (earning the American a very... eh hem… manly… squeak from the other).

Arthur's blush turned an even darker shade as his gleaming green eyed gaze was turned off to the side. "… Wanker…" He teased lovingly.

"Silly Artie, I've got you to help me with that." **(1)** Alfred laughed heartily which only earned him a firm smack to the back of the head.

"Is there no filter between what you think and what you say?" Arthur scolded.

"Nope," Alfred proclaimed as he grinned from ear to ear. "Or at least if what Japan's telling me is true." He quickly added to the end of his statement.

Arthur gave a sigh; rolling his eyes and shaking his head at his fiancés unique attitude which in all honesty, despite the fact that he could be annoying a lot of the time, Arthur loved the younger man's personality. Always so upbeat and optimistic as if there wasn't a single short fall to the world. It was hard to believe sometimes that, despite his very young age, he had already faced horrible hardships in his life as a nation. Two world wars, two terroristic bombings, even a civil war (Which that last one had scared Arthur the most. Even if Arthur was still holding a grudge against the American nation at the time- left over from the revolutionary war- it was still terrifying none the less to watch the usually bright and happy boy tear himself apart at the raging war within his mind.

But luckily that part of Alfred's life was long gone- or at least that's what Arthur had come to believe. As far as Arthur was concerned Jackson Jones had faded away from existence back in 1865. As far as Alfred was concerned it would stay that way even if it killed him. Jackson had a long standing grudge against Arthur and there was no way Alfred was going to let the Confederate American do anything to evoke his revenge on his defeat in the war.

Suddenly a sharp pain stabbed in the side of Alfred's head- just above his right ear. The American gave a small groan of pain as his hand instinctively began to rub at the throbbing spot. Concern then began dance across Arthur's delicate features as he watched a painful expression flashed across his usually cheery fiancé's face. "Alfred?" The Briton asked worriedly. "Are you alright, dear?" He said as he gently layered his hand over Alfred's among the American's stylishly tousled locks of wheat blonde hair.

Alfred turned on the smile again and made himself look as happy and cheerful as he could lest he raise Arthur's suspicions. "I'm fine, don't worry about it." Alfred reassured as he flipped his hand around and took Arthur's in his grasp bringing the digit down and away from his head. Arthur seemed to remain unconvinced, but the Briton never got the chance to press the issue further before he was suddenly whisked away into Alfred's bubbly babbling. "Well c'mon then Artie, let's get this show on the road. It'll be so cool. We can spend a nice day on the beach and find sea shells- Chincoteague's got some pretty conch shells if you look hard enough- and we can see the wild ponies, and go horseback riding and," The American yammered on and on leaving Arthur to just contently listen to him while giving the occasional smile or nod.

On the outside Alfred may have looked easy going and excited, but he could already feel his head churning with an imminent battle. _I'm in control… I'm in control…_

Jackson sat on black nothingness in the deepest depths of Alfred's psyche- hands latched together behind his head and legs lazily stretched out to be crossed over at the ankle. He thoughtfully chewed on the inside of his cheek while he watched the display screen of the world from Alfred's point of view. His eyes were glazed and rather uncaring as he stared at the never ending reel of live video feed that served as his only source of entertainment in the 'Black Box.' His yellow tobacco stained teeth ground together as his steely blue eyes gaze looked upon the happy and content face of one Arthur Kirkland. "British bastard…" Jackson muttered angrily to himself. "… You'll pay for what you did to me…"

Jackson stood up from his invisible seat and sauntered over to the screen, sticking out his lower lip as he once again chewed at the inside of his cheek. He leaned one hand against the wall and glared intensely at the screen just as he caught the reflection of Alfred's smiling face in the glass of the front door of his hummer. He looked so damn happy…. "Oh you think y'er in control union boy? Just you wait till we cross that border- Jackson J. Jones is making his grand reentrance after one hundred and forty-five years…"

**Annotations: **

**The meaning of the British slang word "Wanker" usually refers to someone who masturbates hence the term "Wank off." Just thought I'd explain that so you guys got the joke. **

**Okidoki! New story! I spent this weekend with my friend in Chincoteague, Virginia and as we are avid USUK fans and role play them quite often we decided to act in character for the trip. It resulted in this idea of Alfred's split personality left over from the Civil War. So lo and behold here I now am writing this soon to be super angsty fan fiction! Yay! **

**Please R&R my darlings, it means a lot! Thanks lovies! **


	2. Over the Border

**~~*****~~: Scene change**

Although the car ride was a long and tedious six hour ordeal the time was easily filled by mindless chatter and mutual belting out of The Beatles and Sex Pistols (Left over from Arthur's punk days and his cultural invasion he had on the U.S. at the time). So far the duo seemed to be rather enjoying each other's general company since the two hadn't spent any decent time together in what seemed like eternity and over. As the couple drew closer and closer to the old border of North and South and even through some of the country's previous slave states Alfred was surprised to see that Jackson was remaining relatively quiet. If had been any normal situation Jackson would have started fussing as soon as Alfred crossed into the former slave states.

Was Jackson actually abiding by Alfred's request (Jackson was a dick most of the time, but he did have a side to him equivalent to that of a fine, well mannered, southern gentleman) or was he just lying in the shadows of Alfred's psyche and just waiting to pouncing like a cat stalking prey? Well whatever the situation be Alfred was one hundred percent convinced that he had a mental wall around his mind as strong as Fort Knox and there was no way Jackson was getting passed the security guards. Arthur's presence was calming his anxious mind and filling him with confidence.

But then again Alfred had always been a bit on the naïve side.

Alfred flipped on his blinker and swung the large frame of his beloved Hummer into the first available pump at one of the many gas stations they had passed during their travels. Alfred loved his behemoth of a car to pieces, but it sure did take up a lot of fuel. _I shoulda took the mustang…_ The American thought to himself as he hopped out from the height of the car's cab and took a moment to crack his spine back into place from the long drive. The young American pulled up at the waist band of his loose fitting jeans as he walked over to the gas pump and prepared to feed his monster of a car the super fuel it so desperately craved. _We're in Virginia now so we've crossed the old border and Jackson is still pretty quiet… maybe he really is being nice this time…._

"Remind me again why we took this gigantic thing? You know I hate this car." Arthur inquired as he gingerly placed his crossed arms over the side of the open window and rested his chin in the crook of his elbows. Alfred gazed up at his beloved British fiancé and only smiled as he admired the way the older man's green eyes glittered in the harsh midday sun of the Virginian sky.

It was indeed true that Arthur scolded Alfred nearly every time they drove the giant yellow monster (Something about how it killed the environment and was now considered politically incorrect) but Alfred still loved the thing. "Aw, c'mon Artie you know I love this thing," The American laughed as he opened the gas cap and shoved the nozzle of the pump into the entrance to the tank. "This is a man's car." Alfred's blood froze icy and chilled in his veins when he heard the way his voice left his lips.

The words came complete in a southern accent.

Alfred panicked slightly as he clapped a large hand over his mouth and turned his face away from Arthur. The Briton sat up and curiously looked over at his fiancé who had suddenly jumped and ripped their gazes apart as if he suddenly couldn't stand to look at him. Arthur's thick prominent brows knitted together. "What was that?" The Briton inquired curiously.

"U-uh, nothing!" Alfred was more than relieved to find the next time he spoke the voice came out as his own- North Eastern accent and all. "N-nothing I was just saying how this is a man's car." He laughed nervously as he turned on that ever misleading cover smile and pat the side of the car's enormous cab.

Arthur seemed confused for one of his thick brows rose into a clean arch above his accusing green eyes. Alfred knew that Arthur could tell something was up- the Briton knew him much too well to think Alfred's strange behavior was nothing- it was a matter of whether or not he would press onto the issue further. "Are you sure? For a moment there I… no never mind. I think being in this god awful car all day has exhausted me." He said as he retreated back through the window and flopped down against the rest of his seat.

Alfred sighed in relief as leaned back against the side of the car; running a hand through his tousled locks of dark blonde hair. Luckily enough it seemed as though the whole accent change was merely a fluke and most likely wouldn't be happening again… or at least Alfred hoped. No, he had spent the past century and a half learning how to control his much less than better half and there was never a time when Jackson had actually gained control over anything accept the tone of his accent occasionally. Yeah, Alfred was safe; he was in control. Still… he couldn't help, but remember how bad it had been during the actual civil war and post-war chaos.

He remembered all the times he had begged his men to kill him just so he wouldn't have to endure the crippling mental torture of extreme Schizophrenia- his split personalities. But of course how could his men achieve that when nation's like Alfred were immortal? Still any fate would have been better than that one. Any fate at all. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and held his head in his hands; taking in a deep calming breath in attempts to soothe his frayed nerves as the gasoline continued to feed into his monstrous vehicle.

_Remember all the steps Alfred. Relax, breathe, convince, calm down. Relax, breathe, convince, calm down._

"Alfred?" Arthur's smooth British accented voice drifted into Alfred's ear, jolting him out of his religious thought chanting. The American glanced up and over to see Arthur once again hanging out over the window and looking at him with concern dancing across his delicate features and in his endless green eyes. "Are you alright? You don't look so well…"

"What? No, no I'm fine," Alfred attempted to convince his British counterpart- sending him one of those million dollar grins in the process- but once again Arthur seemed to be unconvinced.

"Somehow I don't believe you…" Arthur muttered out. "Honestly Alfred, if you're not feeling well we don't have to do anything. I know times have been tough on your body with the recession and all and I understand if you just want to lie around and relax."

Yes as of late- what with the American economy getting worse and worse with each passing day- Alfred had been subjected to minor flu like symptoms (The occasional fever, headache, stuffy and or runny nose). Alfred was constantly convincing others that he wasn't sick, but he did have a nasty habit of not giving up when he really ought to. "I'm not sick Artie, I promise. Just tired from the drive is all- six and a half hours is a long time to sit at the wheel." Alfred replied.

"That's what you said back in the twenties…" Arthur grumbled to himself. The Briton pursed his thin lips slightly as he mulled over the rest of Alfred's response, "Well… I suppose if you say so. But don't push yourself, Alfred. I won't be the one taking care of you when you're sick as a dog and lying in bed." Arthur scoffed halfheartedly as he retreated back into the cab of the car.

Alfred chuckled as a soft smile spread over his lips, "Yeah, sure you wouldn't," He shot backing jokingly. "That's what you said back in the twenties too, but you took care of me anyway."

When the gas tank was filled (Alfred had to resist the urge to scream when he saw the resulting price) Alfred placed the pump back on its stand and climbed back up into the driver's seat. As he pulled out of the gas station parking lot a large advertisement for _Marlboro_ cigarettes was plastered up against the billboard across the street. The American eyed the advertisement for a few seconds- intensely staring at the white and beige paper rolled around the ground tobacco and nicotine. Tobacco…. Suddenly Alfred found himself craving a cigarette even though he hadn't smoked in a few decades. Why was he suddenly craving something like that? Alfred merely brushed it off as the ghost of southern influence and pulled back out onto the highway. Maybe he'd buy a pack later… just for old time's sake. It wasn't like one was going to kill him.

It seemed like eternity had passed by the time Alfred and Arthur finally arrived in their hotel room. Both exhausted and weary from traveling (Alfred's small headache and desire for nicotine having increased since earlier) the couple tossed their bags sloppily to the floor and collapsed onto the bed in a heap of wrinkled clothes and mused hair. "Good lord, I thought we'd never make it." Arthur grumbled as he snuggled his face into one of the plush pillows.

"Hey at least you weren't the one driving." Alfred replied as he too snuggled up to the pillows and buried his face into its feather stuffed surface.

"Mnh… it's your bleeding country… git." Arthur muttered back; his eyes half-mast. Alfred didn't quite feel like making any sort of comeback he so he merely grumbled out a load of nonsense to suffice as his response. As the American did so he snuggled up to his dozing fiancé; curling his body around the Briton's petite, slender form. Arthur mumbled something incoherent (maybe along the lines of 'git' or 'tosser.') closing his eyes and allowing Alfred to hold him. Alfred gazed down at the gentle face of his fiancé's face- the way his golden blonde lashes caressed his cheeks when his eyes lay closed. A small smile crept across the American's face as he tenderly reached up and caressed Arthur's cheek; earning him a small smile from the Briton in question.

Without any warning at all a sudden pain ripped across Alfred's head, forcing the American to gasp softly with the sensation and have his hand fly up to the spot where the pain had originated. Arthur's emerald eyes flew open at the sound of Alfred's distress; concern spreading over his features. "Alfred? Are you alright, love?" The Briton inquired worriedly as he placed a comforting hand on Alfred's broad shoulder.

The intensity of the pain dulled away into a light throbbing- nothing much, but still enough to irritate him. "I uh… I'm fine; just a bit of a headache. Probably from straining my eyes so much." That was a believable excuse since Alfred didn't have the best eye sight in the world (The man was nearly blind as a bat without a pair of glasses balancing on the edge of his nose).

Arthur pressed his lips together as he mulled over Alfred's excuse in his mind; deciding whether or not he should press the issue further. "Would you like me to get you a few Aspirin? I carry a bottle in my bag." Arthur inquired thoughtfully; giving Alfred's shoulder a comforting rub.

Aspirin? Yeah that was sure to ease the tension slowly building in Alfred's head. The American managed a nod and his British counterpart complied. The Briton hauled himself off the bed with a small withheld sigh before he gingerly ambled to his abandoned bag. Arthur then spent the next few moments fishing through the small bag's contents before he successfully came across the small pill bottle- shaking it a little to make sure it was still full. The Briton then filled up a paper cup with water before once again strolled back to the bed and held out the cup with one hand and offered two small red pills in the palm of the other.

"This ought to help." Arthur proclaimed as Alfred sat himself up against the head board of the queen sized bed. He took the small pills from Arthur's smooth palm- nodding gratefully- before throwing his head back and swallowing them with a gulp of water one at a time. Arthur gazed at Alfred tenderly; running a hand over the boy's warm cheek before he leaned in and placed a loving kiss between Alfred's wheat blonde bangs. "There you are, love." He spoke softly. "Now, are you sure you're going to be alright? You seem to be very out of it today." He commented in concern.

Alfred avoided his fiancés intense emerald gaze knowing that if he looked the Briton dead in the eye he would end up spilling out everything he was experiencing out of the pure frustration of it all. "Yeah don't worry I'm fine. You know to be honest… I was so excited about our trip that I hardly slept last night…" Another good cover; lack of sleep was always a good excuse to go with since not sleeping with a case of over excitement was a common occurrence for Alfred.

Arthur seemed a bit unconvinced- his thick brows furrowing over his vivid eyes. "Well, that sounds like you. You'll just have to go to bed early tonight if we plan on doing anything tomorrow." The Briton instructed like the mature gentleman he proclaimed himself to be.

"Yeah, yeah mom I know." Alfred teased as lovingly as possible which only earned a small cuff over the back side of his head.

"Don't you pull anything idiotic or I won't feel sorry for you." Arthur warned as sent a half-heartedly glared down in Alfred's direction- slightly distracted by the charming childlike face of his loveable fiancé.

Alfred placed the now empty cup on the night stand that sat to the right of the bed before he rolled off the plush mattress in a clumsy manner. "Well I'm gonna go buy a snack from downstairs; you wanna come or…?"

"You and your insatiable appetite," Arthur sighed with a small shake of his head (The couple had eaten only an hour ago and already Alfred was hungry again, then again why was that a shock?). "No, I'm going to rest up a bit more. You go on ahead." Arthur said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he flopped back down on the bouncy mattress.

"Okidoki Artiechokie, I'll bring you back something good." The American proclaimed with a grin- trying to make his silent pain as unobvious as he possibly could lest he raise Arthur's suspicions further. The American grabbed his old leather wallet off the nightstand and headed out the door; closing it with a soft _click_. Alfred was hungry alright, but not specifically hungry for food. He was still hungry for a cancer stick for reasons he still didn't quite understand. But quite frankly he didn't care, as long as he got his fix.

**Alright sooo, yeah. Kinda slow chapter, but I promise you I've got big things in store for this story. Lots of angst and mentally tortured!America. Just be patient my lovies and reviews are always appreciated. Thank you! :3 **


	3. Old Habits Die Hard

Alfred felt bad as he asked the kid behind the store counter for that pack of cigarettes. He couldn't help, but ask himself why in the world he was buying them even though he hadn't smoked in years. It was bad for his health… Oh one wouldn't kill him…. It would make Arthur worry… Arthur claimed he didn't smoke anymore, but he still did from time to time so it wasn't _that_ big of a deal. Alfred accepted the red and white plastic wrapped package- along with the bag of various candies and chips he had purchased- with a nod to the kid at the counter before he retreated back upstairs to the room where Arthur was waiting.

When the American entered the room again Arthur was exactly where he had left him; lying in bed all curled up on his side with his green eyes closed to the world around him. Alfred could tell by the quiet deep even breaths that made his slender chest rise and fall that Arthur had fallen asleep in his absence. Alfred crossed the room quietly; gently placing the bag of his spoils on the table. The American was about to join his fiancé in his pleasant sleeping bliss when the package of cigarettes called to him. Their plastic wrapping shining dimly in the soft light of the room and giving them a sort of appeal that Alfred was strangely finding irresistible. Alfred gave one more glance over to his sleeping partner and decided now would be as good a time as any to smoke seeing as how Arthur was too asleep to notice he was. What Arthur didn't know couldn't hurt him, right?

Alfred snatched up the pack and the lighter he bought with them and retreated out to the small deck seeing as how the room itself was a smoke free room. He quietly opened the screen and glass doors and then closed them behind him as he stepped onto the encircled wooden platform. He tore off the plastic- pocketing it so he could throw it away later- and then opened the carton pulling out one of the white and tan sticks and depositing it into his mouth. He pressed his lips together around the end of the stick as he took the lighter and sparked it- cupping one hand around the delicate flame to protect it from the breeze- before igniting the exposed tip of the cigarette.

Alfred took in a deep breath through his mouth; inhaling the smoky discharge of the cigarette. The spicy flavor of it feeling foreign yet comforting on his tongue. Alfred pocketed the lighter and then brought his hand up to take the cigarette between two fingers before removing it from his mouth and breathing out a long stream of hazy gray smoke from between his pursed lips.

Something about the taste of the cigarette on his tongue, the scent of it in his nose, the feeling of the smoke filling his lungs it felt… good. Something about it was comforting and enticing like it was a very old and dear friend he hadn't seen in years. What was this? Alfred took in the cigarette again, breathing in the smoke deeply and then breathing it out through his nostrils; finding the burn of the smoke delightful. Suddenly Alfred now found himself instead asking why he had quit smoking in the first place. If it had always felt this good then why did he stop?

"I didn't think you still smoked…" A voice fluttered from the door way. In his bliss Alfred hadn't even noticed or heard Arthur as he woke up from his cat nap and opened the porch door to find the American out there puffing away like it was nobody's business.

Alfred froze for a moment; he had really hoped that he wouldn't be caught. "I-I don't it's just… well I don't know I just kinda felt like it…" The American explained with a small shrug of his shoulders as he turned back to face the space that lay outside the confines outside the deck.

"Well that's a bit unusual. I can't even remember the last time I saw you smoke… may have been some time during the seventies…" The Briton mused to himself as he stroked his chin.

Alfred shrugged his broad shoulders again, "Oh well, it can happen I guess…" He replied as he breathed out another cloud of smoke.

Arthur pressed his lips together; crossing his arms over his slender chest as he sashayed up to Alfred. "You know those things are bloody awful. I can't you the things they've done to my lungs since the seventies."

"So?" Alfred replied back plainly. "It's not like it'll kill us; we're immortal. And besides it's only one little cigarette. One never hurt anyone." Something in Alfred was stirring. The American couldn't exactly tell what, but he felt his annoyance growing; like Arthur's chiding word were rubbing him the wrong way.

"Well I suppose one isn't horrible, but one always leads to more with those bleeding cancer sticks. They're horribly addicting." And Arthur continued and Alfred's irritation grew. Alfred was a grown man he was two-hundred and thirty-four years for Christ's sake. He knew how to take care of himself. "You should really be careful and-!" Alfred promptly cut the Briton off in his rant; his annoyance reaching a breaking point.

"Arthur!" He finally interrupted. "Please, could you stop with the mature adult attitude for once and just let me smoke my damn cigarette."

Arthur looked a bit taken aback by Alfred's argumentative attitude. Alfred hardly was angry- in fact at times Arthur even believed that the boy didn't have a single mean bone in his body- and as such the change didn't sit well with the Briton. "Oh I… I-I'm sorry Alfred. Excuse me for being concerned about your well being." The Briton huffed as he turned away from his fiancé; cheeks puffed out into a pout (Sorry, not a pout since gentlemen didn't pout).

Then Alfred felt guilty; his annoyance with his fiancé suddenly vanished into the air along with the smoke vapors he breathed out. What had compelled him to become so irritated with his partner? Arthur was only trying to look out for him and Alfred only became angry. His guilt only continued to grow. "Artie I… I-I'm sorry I just… I don't know why I was getting so mad…" Alfred tried to become closer to the other man, but he merely turned away and huffed. "Please Artie… I didn't mean it I'm just… I god I don't know." What was happening to him? He was suddenly becoming so moody and that only made him worry….

Were his changes in attitude a result of Jackson?

Alfred wasn't entirely sure of the exact cause of his irritation and sudden need for tobacco and nicotine, but he had a feeling it was the ghost of that old southern influence clouding his judgments and actions. But just because it was a southern influence shrouding his mind that didn't specifically mean it was Jackson that was the one causing them. But still worry consumed the American and refused to let him go from its cold, icy clutches.

Alfred took the cigarette from his mouth; pinching it between his thumb and forefinger while he blew out he last puff of smoke. "I… I really am sorry Artie it's just… it's just I'm kind of stressed y'know with work and international affairs not to mention I have China breathing down my neck for money…. I guess just under the pressure of it all I… I just needed some kinda break. So here I am getting a craving for the cigarette even though I haven't smoked in over twenty years." Alfred said as he gazed down at the smoldering roll of paper pinched between his fingers.

The speech seemed to sway Arthur's huffy attitude for the Briton sighed and turned around so he faced the American. "Hmm, seems like even self proclaimed heroes can crack under stress." He mused; emerald eyes gleaming with amusement.

Alfred sighed and gave an exasperated smile, "Well… I'm still a damn good hero."

Arthur gave his eyes a roll, a sigh, and a small shake of his head, "Yes, yes of course, love. You're world's greatest hero and all that nonsense." He replied.

Alfred chuckled warmly and leaned closer to his beloved Briton; their lip only mere centimeters apart before another pain- similar to earlier- tore through the back of his head and forwards. The American grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut tightly; groaning with the ferocity of the pain and moving a hand up to his throbbing cranium.

"Alfred," Arthur called to his fiancé; thin delicate hands latching onto the American's shoulders to help support the younger man both physically and emotionally. "Is your head still not feeling better?" The Briton inquired anxiously. After having this sudden pang of pain plague his fiancés head three times in such a short span of time Arthur was beginning to grow very concerned for the health of his partner.

"Y-yeah… I'm fine." Alfred breathed out. _Relax, breathe, convince, calm down_. Alfred reminded himself instinctively; doing all that he could to make sure he remained in control.

Arthur on the other hand did not seem convinced with the American's response. "Alfred, I am seriously starting to worry about you. This has happened far too often for me to believe that this isn't some sort of fluke or result of a shaky economy."

Alfred pressed his lips together and turned his sky blue gaze off to the side to avoid looking directly into Arthur's. What was he supposed to do? There was absolutely no way Alfred was going to tell Arthur about Jackson running rampant in his mind- of that much Alfred was sure- but he was also running out of excuses. Just telling Arthur he was fine didn't seem to be cutting it anymore, but it was all he had left. "I'm fine Arthur, really, I'm just tired. A nice meal, a hot shower, and a good night's rest and I'll be as peppy and obnoxious as ever."

Arthur turned his stunning green gaze to the ground; chewing the inside of his cheek with thought as he decided how to carry on with the situation. "Well… I suppose so…" He replied back reluctantly. "But I swear, if this continues on tomorrow I'm taking you to a doctor; no exceptions or excuses." The Briton chided; pointing a stern finger in Alfred's direction.

"Alright, alright but there'll be no need for that- I promise. Tomorrow I'll be up and raring to go just you see." When Alfred spoke he was speaking to Arthur, but not only to Arthur he was also speaking to the southern man who still sat upstairs in his mind watching everything that was going on.

Jackson watched the scene with the same glazed and uncaring look in his steely blue eyes that had been there ever since he had been exiled to the deepest darkest corners of Alfred's mind. The confederate American chewed the inside of his cheek; arms folded over his chest as he leaned back against one of the invisible wall confining him to the Black Box. "Well can't say I'm angry…" He mused out loud to himself. "I did get my fix for a cigarette and not only was the taste of tobacco delicious after two and a half centuries, but it just goes to show that the ol' union boy shouldn' be as confident as he is." He smirked an evil sneer; crooked tobacco stained teeth exposed as his thin lips drew back. "If I can get the poor bastard to smoke just imagine what else I could do." And then he began to laugh; a small chuckle at first that soon developed into all out maniacal laughter. Jackson never had been one to practice self control and now was no different.

**Sorry the chapters are short, but there should be plenty of them and I'm going to try and update as often as I can (I have two free periods back to back in the morning during school so that should give me time to write) sorry they're short, but trust me they'll be worth it. The real power struggle starts next chapter.**

**Reviews and comments are always greatly appreciated. Thanks for the support so far! Always remember patience is a virtue and is always greatly rewarded! **


	4. Nightmares of You

Alfred didn't sleep well that night or at least not as well has he had hoped to. When he had rested his head down on the pillow that night Alfred expected to drift off to a peaceful dreamless slumber that would carry him into the next morning (The American even gave up an offer at love making because of his exhaustion). That was not what he got. All the American received was a horrible night filled with nothing but awful dreams and nightmares plaguing his already restless mind.

A reflection. His reflection. The same wheat blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and strong facial features. Every line of his jaw, every curve of his lips, every freckle, pore, and wrinkle in all the exact same places. A face so identical yet so very different. The reflection's eyes were steely and cold as if the shine and soul had been sucked clean out of them. A cruel, malicious form of mirth stirred ever so slowly in the depths of those eyes like black clouds gathering before a horrible, destructive storm. Those eyes… they haunted Alfred's memories, his conscious, and his dreams and would forever continue to do so.

_"Ya'll better mark my words Alfred F. Jones. I am_ never_ gonna fade away. As long as there are still folks in the south that support my ways I will remain. You may have the control, but I'll always be at the back of your mind just waitin' for a chance to rise up again. You will_ never_ be rid of me."_

The echoing words of the warning promise he had heard over a century and a half ago. The words spoken in that smooth accented voice from between pursed lips around cigarette lingered in Alfred's mind and made unnatural chills crawl up and down his spine like insects.

"_You will _never _be rid of me._" Something gripped Alfred around the wrist something cold, calloused, and dry like the skin of a venomous rattle snake. With terror seizing his thoughts and limbs in their icy clutches Alfred looked down and saw a hand wrapped around his wrist, the hand of the reflection in the mirror. A sneer spread up over a crooked set of tobacco stained teeth, an evil looking smile that only made Alfred's heart speed with his growing fear.

"_You will never, ever, _ever_ be rid of me. No matter how much you fight, no matter how much you flee. I am you and you are me. We are the same." _The hand began to pull Alfred into the surface of the mirror; its shining glass surface slowly sucking him in to its endless black abyss.

"What the… n- no please… I won… y-you can't…" Alfred tried desperately to form any sort of protest but every single attempt failed miserably and the words died on his tongue before he could even give them voice.

"_Oh, but I can… and I will._" Alfred found himself suddenly forcefully pushed into the mirror and he was now looking out into the world from the dark abyss of the Black Box; his other self only sneering at him again as he reveled in the sight of his counterpart's misery.

Arthur was there… he was sitting on the bed… reading some book… completely unaware of the danger at hand. "Jackson! Don't you dare hurt him! I swear to god you lay one scratch on him and I'll kill you!" Alfred screamed at the top his lungs; fists pounding on the glass in a futile effort to break through its strong hold. Not even his inhuman strength could help now. Jackson smirked the most crooked and twisted sneer as he sauntered towards the defenseless Arthur. A wolf in sheep's clothing was what Jackson was. The confederate American's thick, calloused hands ever so gingerly traveled up Arthur's thin arms, his shoulders, around his neck and….

"Arthur!" Alfred screamed desperately as he jolted upright out of bed; chest heaving with struggling gasps and sticky sweat glistening over his bare exposed torso. Alfred's wide blue eyes flickered back and forth as he drank in the darkened night time scenery of his hotel room.

"Alfred," Arthur's familiar voice floated into his ears. The American turned his head and saw that Arthur too had woken up with the episode that had unfolded. "What's wrong, pet? Did something happen?" Even in the darkness Alfred could still see Arthur endless green eyes glowing with concern.

Arthur was here, completely unharmed with no one else- especially not Jackson- in sight. Alfred drew the covers back- ignoring Arthur's qualms- and walked over to the dresser; flicking on the lamp next to it and staring himself down in the mirror. It wasn't like his dream. The reflection in the mirror was his own and no one else's, but his own. The American deeply searched his eyes, looking for a glimmer of that horrible steely malice that had been there in his dream. There was nothing; only the same sky blue shade of his irises that had always been there. "Alfred what's going? Are you alright?" Arthur sounded like he was becoming panicked, but then again who wouldn't when their fiancé just woke up screaming, jumped out of bed, and stared himself down in the mirror all at 3:15 in the morning. "Please, love, you're starting to scare me."

Alfred sighed heavily, flicking off the light again and blindly making his way back over to the bed where Arthur was still anxiously waiting for some kind of explanation. As soon as Alfred crawled back onto the bed he instantly wrapped his arms around Arthur; holding him close, breathing in the scent he carried, the feel of his smooth pale skin and soft unruly blonde hair. "Oh god Artie… I-I'm sorry I just… oh god I had the worst dream…" Alfred explained breathlessly as he just continued to grip onto his fiancé as if he was the only thing binding him to this world.

Arthur sighed softly; the warm tickle of the Briton's breath providing a feeling of comfort for Alfred. "It's alright Alfred, it was only a dream." The Briton soothed as his hands traveled upwards; his arms wrapping around Alfred's shoulders so he could soothingly stroke the American's mused locks of dark blonde hair. 

Alfred lay back down on the bed- taking Arthur with him as he did so. "I just… I just had this dream and… a-and someone hurt you and… it was so awful…" The American said between breaths as he struggled to get rid of the mental image of Jackson's hands wrapped around Arthur's slender neck.

"Shh," Arthur tenderly soothed his frazzled fiancé as he gently caressed the American's face. "Don't worry, pet, I'm fine and no one's going to hurt me. It was only a dream." There was nothing wrong. There was no need to worry. Here Arthur was completely unharmed and Alfred was in total control of his body. There was no immediate danger in sight for the couple so Alfred just had to calm down and relax lest he cause Arthur's concern to grow. The American merely nodded his head against Arthur's chest and closed his eyes as he attempted to drift back off to sleep using the feeling of Arthur curled up next to him as a comfort for peaceful dreams. _Relax, breathe, convince, calm down_….

When the harsh morning sunlight began to stream in through a crack in the hotel room's thick curtains (Those awful velvety curtains that never fully closed the right way) Alfred's eyes cracked open- still tired and blood shot. Even after Alfred had woken up from his nightmare and fell asleep with Arthur wrapped safely in his arms his mind was still restless and he actually truly slept for no more than maybe a few hours at best.

The American rolled over and rested his forearm over his dry exhausted eyes. "Well good morning sunshine." A lovingly sarcastic tone resounded from the other side of him. Until that moment Alfred hadn't realized that Arthur was no longer in bed next to him, but already up, dressed, and ready. The Briton was standing by the door closing it softly behind him as if someone had just left. "You woke up just in the nick of time then again it doesn't surprise me that the smell of food has stirred you from your sleep." He said with a small snicker.

Alfred sat up slowly as he gazed about the room with his sleepy, bleary eyed gaze. As he did so he noticed two trays sitting on the table each with plates piled high with waffles drizzled in whipped cream and powdered sugar, bacon, and toast, along with tall cool glasses of orange juice. "I took the liberty of ordering a bit of room service for us seeing as how it didn't look like you were going to wake up to go downstairs for breakfast anytime soon." Arthur claimed as he moved back across the room to the plates that had been set on the table. "Well come on then. Are you just going to sit there and blankly stare or are you still half asleep." Arthur inquired as he sat down in one of the chairs and pulled a tray of food in his direction.

Alfred was nearly a zombie as he got up from bed and slowly shuffled to the table; Arthur's worried green eyed gaze following him all the while. "Alfred… are you alright?"

The American looked up at his fiancé, "What…? Oh yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just still kinda sleepy after last night…" Alfred explained as he came and took the seat across from Arthur; pulling the food tray towards him so he could chow down.

Arthur gazed over at Alfred from over the rim of his orange juice glass; his green eyes wary and carefully scrutinizing the American's expression. "I suppose… you seemed rather frazzled when you woke up from your dream." Arthur commented as he gingerly placed the glass back down on the table; using his pinky to cushion its fall like the proper gentleman he was. A layer of silence settled on them after that; nothing, but the sounds of forks and knives scraping against plates.

Alfred was still so exhausted. His mind was nothing, but a haze clouded over with fatigue and visions of last night's dream. Alfred was sure that the place he was currently sitting in was indeed reality so here Arthur was sitting safe and sound, but… was that dream a premonition or just a figment caused by the American's paranoid state? In the one-hundred and forty-five years that had passed since the end of the civil war Jackson had never once regained control of the body so why would now be any different? Sure there were still people that supported the confederate ways living in the south, but that power didn't overshadow that of the union. Alfred had no need to worry… right?

"Alfred," Arthur's voice floated into Alfred's ear causing the American to stop mid bite and gaze over at his fiancé across the table. "You still don't seem like yourself today. Is your head still bothering you?" The Briton asked curiously as he cut himself a small piece of waffle.

Now that he thought about it Alfred's head didn't hurt like it had yesterday. The only thing that was bothering him currently was his lack of sleep- nothing else. "No, it feels much better today, I'm just tired is all." Alfred reassured.

The Briton gazed at Alfred for a moment; carefully inspecting the American's face with those piercing green eyes. "Well if you're still tired we can take it easy today, I don't mind."

"No, no I want to go out today. The beaches here are real nice and I want you to see them." Alfred replied.

"Really it's alright Alfred. If you're not feeling up to it I'm perfectly content in just staying here."

At that moment Alfred thanked his lucky stars for the wonders of Hollywood and how he could make himself look as bright and cheery as ever on the outside while on the inside he was slowly falling apart. The American turned on the grin a beaming and bright as ever, "No way Artie you know me, I can't stand staying inside all day. I'm perfectly fine, I'll just go to bed a little early tonight."

Arthur seemed a bit confused at Alfred's sudden change in disposition, but it also seemed like he was thankful for seeing that wonderful smile once again gracing the American's lips. "Well… I guess if you're really up to it. But if you don't feel good again we'll come straight back home, understood?"

"Crystal, Artie." Alfred grinned before shoveling in what was left of his breakfast and washing it all down with a giant gulp of orange juice. "Well'p, I'm gonna go hop in the shower before we head out, kay?" The American said as he stood up from his chair. Arthur gave a small nod of acknowledgement before his green eyed gaze turned back down to the complimentary newspaper the hotel had placed outside their door.

Alfred retreated across the room and into the bathroom where he pushed the door closed behind him and clicked the lock into place. After that he turned on the shower so that sound of the pounding water would drown out his words. It seemed as though he had to have a little chat with his other self. Alfred looked at himself in the mirror; straight into the eyes so that he looked past his own eyes and into Jackson's. "Alright Jackson, I know all this shit has got to be something you're doing. What did I tell you yesterday? You agreed that you weren't gonna pull anything." There was no response, just the echo of his own voice on the walls and the drone of the shower in the distance.

Alfred sighed heavily before letting out a single dry laugh, "I should've known you weren't gonna keep your word. You're nothing but a dirty snake and you always have been…. Whatever it is you're doing, Jackson, it's gonna stop. You have absolutely no control over me because the confederacy _lost_. Even if there are still people that support your ways their power doesn't even come close to the power of the union." There was still no response from the confederate American even though Alfred was well aware that he was listening. "Everything you're trying to do is nothing and it'll do nothing. All you're doing is bruiting like a kid and throwing darts at the side of my head. Do us all a favor Jackie and just stay in that box where you belong." There was still no response from Jackson as Alfred turned away from the mirror and slipped of his pajama pants before stepping into the shower and letting the hot stream of water soothing his aching muscles and weary mind.

Jackson was listening. He heard every little word that Alfred had spoken to him, but whether or not he wanted to reply to those words was Jackson's choice. The confederate American sat back in his invisible seat lazily; legs stretched out in front of him and arms across behind his head. He hummed to himself as he licked his dry lips, "Let's see… should I be nice and let him have his day or should I be mean and mess with his mind more?" Jackson thought about it for a brief second even though he knew exactly which option he was going to pick. "Well now I never have been one to just lie down and take orders, now have I?" Jackson chuckled as he slid down further into his seat. "Though I must say… I think the slow painful torture is much more entertaining. We'll make him suffer a bit now won't we?" He smiled his yellow, crooked toothed sneer and chuckled darkly to himself as the wheels started turning behind those steely blue eyes.

**Okay so small change in plans with the story. I know I said the real power struggle would start this chapter, but I must agree with Jackson slowly torturing Alfred is more entertaining. (Oh god I'm a horrible person aren't I?) I'm so sorry Al, you know I really love you- it's just tough love. **

**Reviews are always appreciated! Thanks for the love so far! **


	5. Losing Words

When Alfred had showered and dressed- smacking himself awake for the sake of Arthur- the couple grabbed their beach gear and piled together in the car to head down to the shore. "It's real nice Arthur. To get to the beach you have to go through the wild horse reserve." Alfred explained animatedly as he drove his gigantic beast of a car.

"Wild horses, really? Sounds lovely, pet." Arthur replied back.

"You bet, they're so cool and beautiful and stuff and if we're lucky they'll be close to the border fence." Alfred grinned widely as his flipped on his blinker and pulled into the entrance to the reserve; only stopping to pay the admittance toll.

"We both seem to have a special love for horses, don't we? You and your wild west days and well I've just been around the animals for as far back as I can remember."

"I love horses, always have always will. When you think about it that was the only way of transportation for a lot of my life seeing as how cars weren't really common and until around the 1920's." Not that Alfred had qualms against cars- in fact he adored cars and owned several old muscle cars- but horses would always have a special place in his heart. The western half of the American nation had been founded upon the strong backs of these majestic creatures and their owners.

Alfred and Arthur pulled around a round-about before a long straight stretch of road with vast nearly treeless plains of grass spread out on either side. The sky was clear and bright that morning with a few clouds dotted here and there making it a wonderful scenic view that looked just like a painting. "This is lovely…" Arthur mused as he looked out the open window; his striking green eyes glistening in the morning sun and his already messy blonde hair slowly becoming more ruffled by the sea breeze. Alfred smiled softly to himself. Oh Arthur, how he loved him so… though he was really just a stubborn no-good liar…. Alfred immediately shook his head clear. What was that? There was no way he'd think something so mean about Arthur, he loved him. That was nothing, just the remnants of a dream talking.

Alfred pushed those stray thoughts to the back corners of his mind as best he could before he drew in a breath to respond to Arthur, "Isn't it? I love coming down here in the summer, been coming here every year for the past decade." Alfred replied as he pressed on the brake a bit to try and get a good look at the wild horses.

"I can see why, it's quite nice, for an American town that is." Arthur teased lovingly in that charming way he always did. Alfred smiled tenderly at his darling fiancé as the Briton turned his head out the window to glimpse at the various ponies lazily grazing in the field.

So far Jackson had been relatively quiet this morning and that came as a great relief to Alfred. Most likely what had happened yesterday had been nothing more than the Confederate American throwing a temper tantrum as he tended to do whenever Alfred ventured into the south. Alfred's dream was also most likely just the remains of his memories from a century ago when he was truly battling for the sake of his sanity and control of his body. There had been no headaches, no desire for cigarettes, and no more strange thoughts. Alfred would be fine to continue through his day.

The couple soon arrived to the sandy shores of Chincoteague beach where the cool calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean lapped at its shore. They set up their chairs and towels, upon Arthur's insistence, an umbrella, and a cooler stocked full of cool sodas and sandwiches for lunch. The air was crisp and smelled faintly of salt and felt good as it filled Alfred's lungs. He hadn't been to the beach in what felt like forever and it was nice to be back especially with someone special.

Arthur was sitting in his chair, busily applying sunscreen to his alabaster chest and shoulders by the handful. "Jeeze Artie, you're gonna die of an overdose on that stuff." Alfred laughed as he joined his lover and flopped down into the chair next to him.

"Belt up," Arthur scoffed. "You can't overdose on sun block." He corrected in his very mater-of-factual way. "Though I supposed an idiotic git such as yourself wouldn't know that." Alfred knew that what Arthur said was meant to be nothing more than a playful joke, but for some reason the American couldn't help, but take it as an offense.

"I'm not an idiot." Alfred snapped back sternly, no humor in his voice. Arthur stopped mid sunscreen application and looked back over at his partner, thick brow furrowed and green eyes confused. "I'm not an idiot, why do you always say that?" Alfred inquired as he leaned forward against his knees.

"Oh come now Alfred," Arthur chided as he rubbed the sunscreen back into his arm. "You know I'm only kidding when I say that." Alfred knew that. Alfred always knew that. When Arthur called him an idiot in the Briton's special language that really meant 'I love you.' Alfred always knew that so why was he taking offense to the loving insult. "But… i-if it really bothers you all you had to do was tell me… I don't want to make you upset…" Arthur turned his eyes downcast to the sand as he continued his work.

What was Alfred doing? He knew Arthur was only kidding with him; he always did. But... why did it make him so angry? "Ah… I-it's alright Artie… I know you were just joking…" He felt guilty not. It was almost as if the American had spoiled the fun atmosphere with just one comment. Alfred needed something, anything that would lift the tension from the air around them. "Well… c'mon Mr. Sunscreen, let's head down to the water." Alfred grinned as he grabbed Arthur's wrist and began hauling him off the chair.

"Alright, alright calm down." Alfred chided softly with a small shake of his head and a roll of his brilliant green eyes. "Don't forget to take your glasses off. You don't want to lose them now do you?" Arthur warned.

"Oh right, that'd be bad considering they're my only pair." Alfred laughed as he pulled the spectacles from his face and folded them up only to come to a disturbing realization. He could see perfectly fine without his glasses. It doesn't seem like that big of a deal to others, but to Alfred it spelt disaster. Alfred could barely recall the last time he had been able to see properly without a pair of prescription lenses. The last time he could had to have been… when he represented the union and only the union. Back during the civil war Texas wasn't under the North's possession and since Texas was what obscured his vision… this was bad… very, very bad…. His personalities were being split apart and not just that, but they were manifesting.

But the American remained undeterred and didn't dare let Arthur key in on the fact he was inwardly panicking about his newfound gain in vision. He thanked whatever celestial being lye overhead for his acting abilities otherwise he most likely would have broken down in front of his fiancé. Alfred merely folded up his glasses and placed them carefully in the pocket of his bag and turned back to Arthur, his million dollar smile still beaming brightly. "All good! You're already covered in enough sunscreen to stand against third degree burns so c'mon." Alfred laughed as Arthur finished rubbing in his latest handful of lotion.

Arthur huffed softly and capped the bottle and then placed it back in the Ziploc bag he had placed it in (He said something about how it would keep sunscreen from getting all over everything if the bottle opened. What a dork…) and put the plastic baggy in his beach bag. "I swear Alfred…" He sighed in exasperation. "But alright, I'm up." Arthur hauled himself at his chair, silently cursing his old joints as he stood and joined Alfred. The duo padded to the water where the sand slowly shifted from being dry and shifty to solid and damp from the ocean's waves. The royal blue sea stretched out before them disappearing over the horizon as far as the eye could see. It made Arthur nostalgic and sigh with the remnants of distant memories. "It's been years since I've sailed the seas and yet it still gives me that same wonderful feeling…" The Briton sighed thoughtfully as he dug his toes in the sand and let the water wash up around his thin ankles.

Alfred laughed softly, "Old sea dog," He teased affectionately. "I remember when used to come up in that gigantic ship of yours every time you came to visit when I was a kid."

Arthur sighed wistfully, "Oh the Victoria… that was the best ship a man could have…" Arthur's green eyes were off in a distant place. Back decades ago when everything those green eyes saw was in his possession. "It's a shame it sunk during the wars…"

"I feel your pain. My Mustang was the best plane I ever had, y'know back during World War Two, but it got struck in the left engine and I had to jump out. Poor thing dropped to the earth like a rock and broke apart like a glass vase." Alfred replied, still saddened over the loss of his favorite aerial friend from the 1940's.

Alfred's vision suddenly blurred and the world was obscured like it should have been without his glasses. "God damn foreigners, shootin' down mah plane." Alfred's voice changed, a thick southern drawl overtaking his tone. Alfred found himself grinding his teeth together. Right, damn those German assholes to hell. What right did they have to shoot down his beloved airplane? He should go and beat the living crap out of-! Alfred cut his thoughts off short. What was he thinking? He had forgiven Germany for what happened, everyone had. Why was he suddenly becoming so cynical?

Arthur was quiet, looking over at Alfred with furrowed brows. "Did… did your accent just change?" The Briton questioned curiously as he scrutinized his partner's face.

Alfred hesitated. "N-No it uh…" Alfred was shocked to find this voice was still twanged. "Sometimes it uh…" Still twanged. It should have changed back by now, but it wasn't and that made Alfred's heart thump in his chest,

"I knew I heard your accent change yesterday…" The Briton muttered to himself. "Alfred, are you trying to suppress it?"

The American's blue eyes shifted in his skull. What was he supposed to say? 'Oh hey Arthur, it's just my alternate personality from the civil war trying to slowly take over my body. And by the way he has long standing grudge against you and kinda wants you dead.' The Briton would most likely have an aneurism on the spot if he heard that. "Well… it uh… it happens sometimes when I'm down south…" Alfred admitted quietly, hating the sound of his twanged voice.

"Oh… well I'm not very fond of that accent… It sounds so unsophisticated…" _I'll show you unsophisticated…_ A voice in Alfred's head said. "But if you really can't help it I don't mind you speaking with it. Lord knows I even go off in cockney every once in a while."

The American pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. He concentrated, really concentrated. He gathered up his will and wielded it like a weapon against Jackson's influence. He breathed out a deep lung full of air and opened his eyes. "No… I'll suppress it," Alfred was relieved to find his voice was his own with his Northern accent. "I don't like taking with that accent… it brings back some bad memories…"

The air around them was silent. Only the sound of the waves, the gulls overhead, and the mutterings of a few other beach goers filled his ears. Arthur gazed over at Alfred briefly with those emerald eyes of his. The Briton sighed softly and turned his gaze back to the sea. "A country that young should never have to experience something as vile as a civil war…" Arthur said, he eyes distant again. Arthur too had experience civil war at a young age, what with the War of the Roses, and it had been difficult for him just as much as it had been for Alfred.

Civil war was no laughing matter. For nations it meant a constant internal battle between oneself and the voices in their head. The loss of control over their own limbs and being banished in the deepest darkest recesses of their minds. It was a horrifying thing to endure especially when you were young and naïve and unsure of how to control yourself.

"Well at least it's not like that ingrate is still around. Be thankful for that." Arthur reassured his fiancé with a soft smile on his thin pink lips. Unfortunately though unlike Arthur's alternate personalities Alfred's hadn't vanished with the passing of time. Jackson had been around for as long as Alfred could recall, always watching, always listening, always thinking and plotting about how he could once again gain control. That factor is what scared Alfred the most. But it's not like Arthur knew that….

"Oh yeah definitely, thank god he's nothing more than a distant memory." Alfred's voice was relatively calm with a little less than a hint of nervousness. The existence of Jackson was Alfred's biggest secret against his British partner.

Alfred curled his fingers into his palm and clenched his first tightly. If only he knew, if only Arthur knew just what was going on in his mind. Alfred wanted to tell him, blurt out the entirety of secret all in one breath, but at the same time it was a secret he wanted to take as far as his grave. He didn't want Arthur to worry about him and that was his primary reason as for why the truth had stayed under heavy lock and key for all these years.

Jackson watched the world from his alternate ego's eyes. The Confederate American chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought as he scanned through Alfred's own. "So? The Union boy wants me to be a secret, huh?" He mused as switched to fiddling with a button on the gray uniform that he had disappeared in all those years ago. "Well I'm real sorry 'bout little Alfie, but that's a no can do on mah part." His steely gray-blue eyes traveled up and looked at the outside world from under dark blonde lashes. "Ain't that a pity?" He sneered with a sly smirk as he marveled at his wonderful plan lying out before him like a yellow bricked road to control.

**Wow I haven't updated in a long time on this one. To be honest I was having some writers block with this story, but I'm over it. I've been really busy with my school play which will fortunately be over after this weekend his through, but on the flip side my laptop is broken and I have to do all my writing on the computers at school during my free time. But I'll do my best and my mom said my laptop can be fixed when the holidays are over. **

**So anyway reviews are always greatly loved and appreciated. Thanks lovies and sorry for the wait! **


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